Tonight’s post comes to you via my phone cause modern technology hates me. We got a new media center to put the tv on. I knew I had to reroute the mess of wires on the floor in order to put the tv, router, DVD player, etc on and in the media center. With much dread and timidness I slammed the power off on the whole mess and unscrewed the cable from the wall. An hour later, with much help from a three year old electrical engineer and manically screaming one year old, I had everything reconnected.
Flipping the switch I was not surprised to find the modem flashing four lights repeatedly in a decidedly “not working / go f@ck yourself” manner. I unplugged the modem, the router, both, one another….I turned the modem upside down, wiggled it, licked it….nothing seemingly worked. My suspicions were confirmed upon trying to access the Internet.
No Internet service.
The cable works fine. Yes, if I didn’t mention it, we got cable last week. We broke down after I broke the tv antennae, which in turn reduced our tv reception to exactly zero stations. Cable is great. I now can watch guys wrestle alligators, learn how to die 1000 times over, and discover the ins and outs of buying million dollar houses.
So just like everything else, nothing is easy around here. And without internet I will now be forced to read, play with my kids or talk to my wife. This is a seriously horrific turn of events. I’ll send you the address to send your monetary donations.
This week when I wasn’t battling technology or binge drinking on a school night I was pissing mother nature off. The porch ceiling has proven to be a most attractive location for wasps to make nests. About four weeks ago I dispatched a golf ball sized nest. This week the wasps were back reconstructing their golf ball abode. I could have used the chemical wasp spray with its nossel that deals foamy death from twenty feet away to ruin my wasp friends’ day. Instead having just read the ‘Hunger Games‘ I decided knocking the nest with a pink yardstick would be the cooler way to go.
I shit thou not, as soon as my fushia sword contacted that nest two wasps shot off sideways and one made a beeline right for my head. Before I could even contemplate screaming like a little girl, my cheek was on fire and I was knocked backwards. I nearly punched myself out trying to get the freaking yellow and black monster off my face. Back peddling I glance to see the nest is down so I stumble towards the door, contorting my body in a convulsive manner only a middle aged white man could manage.
Scrambling into the house followed by a slamming door I frantically cry out to the wife. My face was burning. She quickly came to my rescue and assessed my injury. Upon closer examination she saw a shiny black stinger sticking out of my face. Tweezers in her hand, my skin pulling with the presumably barbed stinger, she picked it out. With the help of some peroxide and soap I was cleaned up. I patiently waited for my throat to close up and mercifully put an end to this nonsense but all I got is a swollen check.
From now on its toxic chemicals all the way.
Well next week the Amish guys come out and work on finishing the porches. We like our new media cabinet. And I get to continue installing cabinets. Soon we’ll be ready for guests to come over to drink our beer.